


swallowing mud, swallowing glass

by RedLipped



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, GTA AU, M/M, pew pew pew and all that stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-13
Updated: 2015-06-13
Packaged: 2018-04-04 07:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4129426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedLipped/pseuds/RedLipped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lights in the distance behind them could barely be seen. Lights being driven by men who wanted to watch them bleed. Lights that provided the only indication that they weren't safe, not yet. The boy in the passenger seat fired his gun toward the lights. It was 3 AM.</p>
            </blockquote>





	swallowing mud, swallowing glass

**Author's Note:**

> this is absolutely a Fake AH Crew Mavin fic and i'm absolutely 100% trash
> 
> it's based off of the very end of the poem Little Beast by Richard Siken (which makes this my second fic inspired by a Siken poem!). i made sure to include it at the end. it's a perfect poem that reminds me so much of GTA!Mavin, so voila!

Two boys sped down a lengthy, foggy highway. One boy was driving at illegal speeds, the other was leaning with his entire upper body hanging outside of the passenger side window. He fired a handgun in the general direction behind their moving vehicle, unafraid and squinting through the fog. The freeway was barren, abandoned and pitch black. The only source of light prying itself through the thick murkiness came from the headlights of their car. Lights in the distance behind them could barely be seen. Lights being driven by men who wanted to watch them bleed. Lights that provided the only indication that they weren't safe, not yet. The boy in the passenger seat fired his gun toward the lights. It was 3 AM.

It had all gone so wrong.

They had been given the task by their boss, who fully intended for them to be able to handle the job. It was simple, in contrast to some jobs they had completed in the past. The layout was easy: infiltrate the abandoned building, discover if it was _truly_ abandoned, and look for any evidence of a planned attack against their own crew. They had a rough sketch of the floor plan, they knew the entrances and the exits, the windows and doors. Nothing to be afraid of, no risk of being discovered.

In fact, the slender boy with sun-kissed skin and green eyes groaned when he was given the task. Out of their entire crew, he was the one who craved danger and thrill the most. He took risks every time he breathed, and he exploded buildings with the flick of his fingers, watching the blaze intently behind stolen sunglasses so he could play it back slower in his mind on a rainy day. Being assigned a menial job like this was a bore.

“Gavin, Michael, you'll be going on this one,” their boss had instructed. Gavin's groan filled the room, echoing off the walls. Michael shot him a glare.

Michael, also known as the quick-tempered fighter who liked fast cars, strong alcohol and most of all, Gavin.

Geoff, their boss and crew leader, teamed them up more often than not, mainly because they completed jobs well together. Their chemistry made them unstoppable, and he was as proud as a father to have them on his side of the streets. However, sometimes he paired them together simply because they longed for each other when they were apart. He had split them up on jobs in the past, and without the comfort of one beside the other, both boys were distracted. They completed tasks perfectly fine, but there was always the lingering thought in the back of their mind, quiet at times but usually loud, screaming at them, “ _Where is he? Is he safe? When will I see him again?”._ Geoff had formed a habit of giving them what they wanted.

The plan was straightforward and he gave them the task knowing that they would fulfill it how he intended. The target building was old, but with the help of their best hacker, he knew there had been some recent activity by a group who didn't particularly like him or his men. He knew, specifically, that this group had his name on the top of a “people to eliminate” list. Underneath him was everyone he had ever been associated with—everyone from his crew to his mother to his old dog, and he simply couldn't risk it.

Chances are, the building would be empty anyway. It wasn't turned into a hideout or safehouse so the possibility of the two boys being spotted was slim to none. But as with most seemingly perfect plans, there was an oversight. There was a leak, and the rival group knew they would be coming.

 

On the car ride to the building, at roughly 2 AM, Geoff begged Michael and Gavin to turn off their ear pieces and mics. Only until they reached their destination, of course. He was sick of hearing Gavin press wet kisses to Michael's neck, and he was tired of hearing Michael's sharp intake of breath each time. Both boys complied with evil grins on their faces, shutting off their mics entirely.

It was then that Jack watched the traceable GPS as Michael's car pulled over to a stop on a side dirt road.

“Geoff,” he mumbled through a rough voice, “they've stopped.”

Geoff ran his hands over his face and rubbed the skin of his eyelids. This had happened before, of course. More than once. It was useless to try and stop them now; he would talk to them later.

In Michael's car, both boys had clambered into the back seat, pressing their fingertips into each other's skin and trying to get closer than physically possible. Michael attacked Gavin's jawline with his mouth, and Gavin's feather-light touches along Michael's hips sent shocks straight to his heart.

It wasn't a moment to be cherished or dragged out, but rather something quick to satisfy them both. They both knew that they couldn't waste time, and it was over almost as soon as it began.

“What's wrong with a quick backseat shag?” Gavin argued into his mic as he flopped back into the passenger seat again. Sweat rolled down his spine and he inhaled the smell of spontaneous sex.

Michael turned off his ear piece to avoid Geoff's angry voice cracks in his ear and pulled back onto the main road, proceeding to their destination.

 

When Michael and Gavin whispered “Team Nice Dynamite” to each other in high-pitched, childish giggles outside of the back door of the building, they had never anticipated the firefight that would face them moments later.

Michael had kicked the door in, aiming to impress the bouncing boy beside him. Before his eyes could even adjust to the darkness of the room he heard a gun cock.

He stepped back through the doorway he had entered, pushing Gavin behind him when the first bullet was fired directly into his body armour. Gavin jumped and shrieked, panic flooding his veins as Michael grabbed at his wrist and yanked him away from the door. They ran as fast as they could go, away from the building, dodging the bullets that were aimed for their backs.

Michael had parked a fair distance away, a precaution to avoid being spotted, but now he was mentally kicking himself. The longer the distance to run, the more at risk they were of being killed. Nonetheless, they escaped under the cover of darkness and the slowly developing fog.

Gavin's maniacal laughter and squeals drowned out the gunshots and the shouts of the angered gang behind them. His giggles filled Michael's ears, wrapping his adrenaline-ridden brain in a blanket. Gavin loved the thrill and Michael loved Gavin, and the thrill followed them both wherever they went.

Thankfully, Michael's car was heavily armoured. They found refuge inside the vehicle for a brief moment until they heard the unmistakable demand from a bellowing voice, “Follow them!”.

Michael screeched the tires and they peeled off, winding down the road until he could find the entrance to the freeway. Gavin peered down at his wrist in the limited light. The print of Michael's hand where he had grabbed him was glaring an angry red against his tanned skin.

“You've bruised me,” he said with a small grin.

Michael smirked but didn't take his eyes off the road in front of them. He raced onto the freeway, exceeding the designated road speeds in favour of escaping the pursuers behind them. The fog grew denser, clouding his vision and making it increasingly difficult to see the road lines. Not that it mattered; he wasn't intending to follow the rules at this point anyway.

Gavin craned his neck to look in the rear window with his face pressed against the back of his seat. He squinted and peered into the expanding blackness they were leaving behind. In the distance, muffled through the fog, he could see headlights catching up with them. Adrenaline spread through his bones and he pulled his handgun out from beneath his seat.

As Gavin rolled down the passenger side window, Michael took one hand off the wheel and grasped at his thigh. Gavin hesitated, staring at Michael solemnly. He felt Michael's fingers tighten their hold on his thigh, only slightly, before letting him go. Nausea and unrest settled in his stomach as he focused on the road ahead. His foot pressed the gas pedal to the floor, trying as hard as he could to exceed the top speeds of his car. His main priority was getting them away and getting them safe.

Michael occupied his mind with thoughts other than the boy who was currently leaning out the passenger side window. He thought of Geoff, thought of the crew, thought of possibilities for a potential mole among them. How else had the rival group known they would show up? The more the thought clouded his mind, the more he realized it was a useless distraction. The blame couldn’t be placed on any of his friends and crew members. None of them seemed suspicious and they trusted each other more than that.

Gavin, on the other hand, was plenty occupied. He gripped the car's interior along the side of his window, leaning his full body weight against the window ledge to maintain his balance. With one hand, he fired repetitive shots just barely above the headlights of the vehicles tailing them. He could tell none of his shots were hitting but he refused to stop.

Eventually one of his shots must have hit his target and he cheered as he watched lights swerve into the side of the freeway. The sound of crashing metal rang in his ears. _One down._ He gripped the interior of their car even harder, practically feeling the bones in his hand burst through his flesh. His knuckles were pale white, skin stretched over tensed joints. Gavin loved the raw rush of adrenaline and taking out an enemy only caused that feeling to spread even further, flushing every inch of his skin.

His celebration was short-lived, however. Michael's piercing shout pulled him from his concentration and he felt a hand grasping at his thigh again. This time Michael was tugging at him urgently, trying to pull him inside the vehicle. Gavin jerked his leg out of the boy's grip, frustrated that he had ruined his high. Through the fog, lights in front of their vehicle caught his eye. They grew closer and closer, lined up along the entire width of the freeway. He gasped and the whipping wind filled his lungs and he choked, spluttered, coughed on the feeling.

He ducked himself back inside the vehicle and latched onto Michael's bicep, shivering over what he now knew was inevitable. They were racing directly toward a roadblock formed entirely out of enemy vehicles. His blood ran cold and he knew he was screaming on the outside. He could hear a voice, his own voice, wailing at Michael to slow down and drive the other way. He could hear another voice, Michael's voice, telling him to shut up and brace himself because there was no way he could go back now.

Gavin could hear himself shrieking, truly fearful for one of the first times in his life. On the inside, he had shut down. He wasn't reacting consciously, instead drowning himself in panic. The expanse of fog, the potential nothingness of the future, the bright lights growing closer and closer, all filled his chest to a point where he couldn't breathe, but he was still screaming and shouting.

As the fog cleared and the roadblock came into view, hundreds of bullets cracked against the armoured exterior of their car. With a sharp jerk of the wheel, Michael narrowly avoided collision with one of the blocking vehicles, and in the process, flew over an unguarded edge of the freeway.

Gavin's screaming ceased as his stomach plummeted down into his shoes. Michael grasped for him but he just couldn't reach him in time. Both pairs of eyes slammed shut as they braced for the impact of the car landing on whatever was beneath them. Michael prayed to whoever was listening that they weren't above water.

The sound of metal crunching against the ground echoed into the night for miles. The car propelled forward until it cracked against a tree and stopped dead. One body, the one belonged to the boy behind the wheel, was showered in glass. The second body, the one belonged to the boy not wearing a seat-belt, ejected through the front windshield and landed in a heap of broken bones in front of the cracked headlights.

Gavin was the first to wake up.

Every inch of his body ached. His ribs felt broken and crushed against his lungs, making it hard to breathe. His face was pressed into something cold, damp, and rough. He wheezed, spluttering as he swallowed mud from the ground below him. When he finally opened his eyes, everything was white. He was blinded and a sharp pang of pain ran through his eyes. He couldn't see anymore. Everything was white, everything was cold, and he was dead. He just knew it. A blinding white light, pain, and then nothingness. It was all over. He panicked.

His head spun and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't fill his lungs with enough air. He felt paralyzed, unable to move a single limb. He felt blinded, unable to see anything through the piercing light. Most importantly, he felt terrified, unsure if he was alive or dead, or if Michael was alive or dead. He sobbed into the dirt, swallowing the mud. Somewhere on the freeway above him, the tires of enemy cars screeched as they sped off into the distance.

Michael woke up second.

He choked so hard it brought him back to consciousness. He coughed and spit into his hand, eliminating the object that was tearing up his throat. A small shard of glass glittered in the moonlight. He brushed shattered glass from the windshield off of his jacket, out of his hair, out of where it had pierced his skin. He spit up blood into his own car's interior, cringing at what would eventually be an unavoidable stain in the fabric.

He maneuvered himself so he could grab onto the door handle and free himself from the wreckage. His head spun as he planted his feet firmly on the ground. He shook more glass from his hair and was satisfied as it crunched under his boots. In the dim moonlight, a flash of red caught his eye. He looked down at his left hand and flexed his fingers, watching as blood oozed from the glass-inflicted gashes along his knuckles.

He winced as he ran his tongue along the inside of his mouth. He could feel small splinters of glass stuck in his gums and jabbed into his cheeks. He spit onto the dirt below him and was unreasonably shocked by the amount of blood that painted the ground. Michael flexed, stretching the muscles in his back and rotating his shoulders. He stood and managed to find his balance perfectly fine. Nothing felt _too_ broken, just potentially bruised.

After his own self-assessment, he determined that he was okay. However, Michael's main concern was currently lying in the dirt and coughing up a storm.

“Gavvers?”

Gavin inhaled sharply as Michael knelt down in front of him, shielding him from the light. His head pounded and he could hear his blood pumping through his veins. Michael gingerly cupped his face with both hands, holding his head off of the dirt, and Gavin could feel the heat of his face pressed against Michael's soothing fingertips.

“Michael..” Gavin whined.

“I'm here, Gav,” Michael muttered, slotting his right arm underneath Gavin's left and wrapping his arm around his back. Slowly, with great care, Michael leaned all of Gavin's weight onto himself. He pushed up into a standing position and supported Gavin with both arms. His heart lurched as Gavin wrapped his arm around Michael's neck, clinging tightly.

Michael glanced behind his shoulder at their wrecked vehicle, cringing at the sight of smoke seeping out from under the front hood, reflecting against the headlights in the dark of night. He buried his nose in the hair of the boy he was holding.

“Do you think you can walk home?”

Gavin inhaled sharply and nodded. His weight was evenly balanced on Michael and only his left leg, leading Michael to believe that something must have been wrong with his right. Neither of them commented on the fact.

A shiver ran down Gavin's spine, partially due to the cold night air and partially due to the ache in his bones. Michael pulled him in tighter to his own chest and wriggled out of his brown leather jacket. He laid it along the back of Gavin's shoulders and helped the younger boy slide his arms into the sleeves. Gavin moaned at the heat and rested his head against Michael's forehead. Lips pressed together for brief moment before Michael pulled him close to his side.

Michael supported the majority of Gavin's weight once again and they began to walk in the vague direction of the safehouse. As the moonlight illuminated their way in the darkness, Gavin rested his head on Michael's shoulder. He craned his neck so he could angle his lips toward Michael's ear.

“Sorry about the blood in your mouth,” he whispered, “I wish it was mine.”

A cold shiver snaked its way down Michael's spine. It spread through his chest and clutched tightly around his heart. Without a conscious effort, he splayed his fingertips across Gavin's rib cage, drawing the boy in even closer than before.

Gavin was content in the moment, and in his muffled pain-ridden brain, he came to a conclusion. Michael would have to buy a new leather jacket because the one wrapped around Gavin's chest, protecting him from the cold, was officially reclaimed.

 

"We still groped for each other on the backstairs or in parked cars  
                                                                            as the roads around us  
grew glossy with ice and our breath softened the view through a glass  
                   already laced with frost,  
but more frequently I was finding myself sleepless, and he was running out  
                                                                                                of lullabies.  
But damn if there isn't anything sexier  
                                                than a slender boy with a handgun,  
                                                                          a fast car, a bottle of pills.

What would you like? I'd like my money's worth.  
                                       Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this—  
         **swallowing mud, swallowing glass** , the smell of blood  
on the first four knuckles.  
  
                                                    We pull our boots on with both hands  
but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do  
                   is stand on the curb and say _Sorry_  
_about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine._  
  
I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time."

_-"Little Beast", Richard Siken_

**Author's Note:**

> just a note: if you spot any typos or formatting issues, please let me know. i seem to be having a few AO3 glitches tonight.
> 
> feel free to hit me up on [tumblr](http://jacktapillo.tumblr.com/) <3


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